CHAPTER XXVIII "PITY THAT PAINS" Anne's villa delighted Alexis, especially the small music room with its frescoed walls and paucity of furniture. It was, he said, the ideal room for music, and they spent their evenings there and many afternoons. To-day, an outburst of spring rain had driven them gustily indoors. It fell from the skies like a sable veil through which smiling hillsides showed ashen like a woman in mourning. In the garden the cypresses dripped heavily. Water foamed down the gutters in amber cataracts. A shower of slanting missiles, the rain hurled itself against the windows, drumming upon the panes with the beat of a thousand nervous fingers. Anne shivered a little. From a stool at her side Alexis looked up into her face anxiously. It was pale, and the large eyes gleamed from out dark circles. He took her relaxed hand and stroked it tenderly. "You look tired, dearest one. Aren't you well this afternoon?" "My head aches a little." It was palpable to Alexis that her smile came with an effort. He laid his cheek against her hand with a low, crooning caress. "Poor darling! What could have caused it? I've never known you to have one before." She passed a hand over her forehead in the futile gesture that accompanies headache. "I have only had one or two in my whole life." Her tired smile went to his heart. "What do you think brought it on?" he persisted. "Have I worn you completely out?" "Of course not, silly boy!" The over-brilliant eyes hovered upon him restlessly. "Well, what is it then?" Anxiety rendered him brusque. "I suppose it was my visit to the Marchesa this morning. It wasn't an easy thing to do, Alexis." "Telling her about us, you mean?" She nodded wearily. "You see, she has hoped for years that I would marry her son, and it was rather a blow." "Poor old lady, of course it was. But didn't she know that you had no intention of marrying him anyway?" Anne avoided the searching eyes, with elaborate carelessness. "Yes, but so long as I remained single, she always felt there was a chance of my changing my mind." "Ah, poor old thing! I don't blame her for being upset at losing you. If I were she, I'd want to commit murder. Was she nasty?" "No-o." Anne frowned a little. In her delicate way the Marchesa had certainly been a trifle ironic. But you couldn't blame her for that, as Anne had not felt it incumbent upon herself to tell the truth in its entirety. Yes, she had been a little cutting and the sting of her words lingered in Anne's heart. Particularly the inference about the nursemaid wives of erratic geniuses. But the pinched look about her mouth, the added pallor upon the frail ivory face had more than excused her. If one chose to wound one's dearest friends by indulging in what must seem like inexplicable freaks, one must suffer the consequences. "You seem a little uncertain?" During Anne's silence, Alexis' eyes had darkened with renewed suspicion.